


3-on-1

by labellementeuse



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Gangbang, Light Dom/sub, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-30
Updated: 2016-04-30
Packaged: 2018-06-03 22:24:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6629080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/labellementeuse/pseuds/labellementeuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack says, "We've talked about this so much I'm not even sure it turns me on any more."</p><p>Connor pulls up at a red light. "Liar," he says.</p>
            </blockquote>





	3-on-1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sophiahelix](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sophiahelix/gifts).



> "I hope you like this" seems like a very weird thing to say when you're giving someone shameless porn, but I really hope you do like this! Thanks for an awesome exchange experience.
> 
> Many thanks to mermaid for the beta. Remaining errors, and commas, are all my own.

Jack's phone vibrates with a text. He glances down. Hanny. _r u sure?_

At the same time, Connor glances away from the road to say, "Are you sure?"

Jack snorts, shows Connor the phone. "You're all a bunch of babies," he says. "Yes, I'm sure." He texts Hanny: _yes stop asking_

"Can you blame us?" 

"Uh, yeah," Jack says. "We've talked about this so much I'm not even sure it turns me on any more."

Connor pulls up at a red light and looks Jack up and down. "Liar," he says, confident all of a sudden, and Jack shivers. 

"Yeah, well," he says. He's barefoot, in thin shorts and a tank top; it's summer, but Connor has the air conditioner blasting, so he's still a little chilly, feeling vulnerable. They've talked about that, it's deliberate, but that doesn't mean it's not effective. 

The light changes, and Connor looks back to the road. Jack breathes in a little bit, out again. He wasn't lying, he's sure, but that's not the same as not being nervous, a feeling he has no intention of sharing with Connor or Hanny or anybody else who might be joining them today.

He doesn't know if there will be anyone else. That's something else they've talked about. He's not sure what he's hoping for—for nobody, or someone, or a couple of someones. Connor didn't seem all that comfortable with the idea of bringing in someone else, so Jack thinks probably it'll be just the three of them, and he's fine with that. The idea of a fourth person, though—

Jack's starting to get hard in his shorts.

Fortunately, it's not long before Connor pulls over into a motel parking lot. It's a little dingy, but not too bad, and Connor parks all the way over in the far corner of the lot, near a couple of rooms set apart from the others. There are a couple of other cars scattered around the lot; Jack looks at them, thinks about who might have driven them there. He doesn't recognise any of them, but then, he wouldn't; Connor's driving a rental and Hanny will be, too.

Connor puts the car in park, switches it off, and they sit there for a moment. Jack takes a deep breath, exhales, and Connor looks over at him. 

"Last chance," he says, then stops himself. "I mean, you can bail any time. You know that, right?"

"Yes, Mom," Jack says. Connor makes a revolted face. It breaks the tension a little bit, enough for Jack to grin at Connor, say, "I'm ready already, let's do it."

Connor grins back at him, then rolls his shoulders. Jack feels his mouth water as Connor straightens a little in his seat, gives him an assessing look. It's not like Connor is a different person when they do this, or anything like that. This part of Connor's always there, but he usually keeps it hidden, just like Jack does. It's like some layer of … pretence goes away so Jack can see a Connor that's just that bit less easy-going, just that bit more demanding.

Jack's still cold, but he can feel himself begin to flush as Connor gives him that look. Then all the locks on the car click shut, and he startles. 

"Stay here." Connor unlocks his own door and is out of the car in a jerk, locking the door behind him. Jack tries his own door. Still locked. He lets himself dwell on that a little bit. He can't get out or do anything. 

Connor opens the trunk, pulls something out—twisting around, Jack sees a big black duffle bag, not one he's seen before—and then closes that too. Jack watches him go over to the far door, bag in one hand, key card in another. He opens the door, disappears inside.

Jack feels himself start to fidget. He tries the door again, then crawls over to the driver's seat and tries that door. No luck. Jack's starting to breathe a little more heavily. 

He could unlock the door, obviously, but what fun would that be? He dwells in his rising sense of panic.

He gets back to his own seat in time for Connor to come out, probably only a minute later. Connor comes up to the passenger door, clicks the car key and the doors unlock. Jack goes for the handle, but Connor beats him to it, getting the door open and a grip on Jack's arm.

Connor's hand is strong, strong enough Jack hopes it'll bruise, and he yanks Jack out of the car. 

Jack lets himself half-fall out and come up hard against Connor, who shifts his grip and starts pulling Jack with him. He kicks the door shut behind him, locks the car and drops the keys in his pocket, and then they're at the room and Connor's shoving him inside. 

It's dim but not dark. The curtains are pulled, but they're thin enough the room is bathed in a yellowy light. It's not gross but not fancy, either; just a bed, bedspread stripped off and in the corner, a nightstand, an armchair in the corner and the kind of shitty travel desk you can basically fit a laptop on. There's some lube and condoms on the desk, plus some other things Jack doesn't look too hard at. The door to the bathroom is drawn half-shut, and there's a light on in there, enough to get a sense of generic white tile. 

Connor lets go of Jack's arm, pushes him over to the bed. "Strip," he says. Jack does, quickly. It doesn't take much before he's standing there naked. Connor comes over to run a possessive hand over Jack's body, and Jack leans into it. Connor lets him, tolerant, and gives Jack the kiss he's leaning up for. Jack lets himself feel his own nudity, the way he's pressing himself up against Connor, who's still fully clothed. 

Connor indulges Jack for a moment, then walks them backwards until they're next to the bed, shoving Jack backwards onto it. Jack lets himself go, easy. He stretches out, feels Connor's assessing eye on him. Connor gives him a little curl of a smile, then drops it. "Hands up," he says.

Jack obediently stretches his arms above his head. Connor comes over and secures each wrist to the bedposts—Jack idly wonders how sturdy they are, and how Connor managed to find a motel room with convenient bedposts. The leather cuffs Connor's using are familiar, the ones they use in the bedroom when they're just playing around. Connor's used them to tie Jack to his bed, to Jack's bed, memorably once to the kitchen table. 

The soft white rope Connor picks up from the desk is new, though. 

Connor taps Jack's knee, lifts it up and stretches Jack's leg above his head. He ties it to Jack's arm with a knot Jack doesn't recognise and repeats it with the other leg, then tucks a couple of pillows under Jack's ass. 

"Okay?" Connor asks.

Jack tests the rope. It's soft, and won't chafe; his circulation is fine, but he can't move around much. "Yeah," he says. "I, uh."

"Hm?" 

"I feel very—" Jack breaks off. He's naked. His legs are splayed open towards the door. Anyone who comes in will see everything—his dick, his balls, his ass. He feels vulnerable, exposed. He doesn't want to put it in words. 

Connor knows, though. "Like everyone can see you and how much you want this?" 

Jack can feel himself starting to blush, that embarrassing redhead blush that starts high in his cheeks and rolls down his entire body. "I guess," he says. 

"That's pretty much why we're here, right?" Connor runs a hand down Jack's thigh, possessive, cups his balls. Jack pushes up into it, and Connor's caressing hand becomes a smack, making Jack whine. "Yeah," Connor says. "We're here because you want other people to see just how much of a slut you are."

Jack drops his head back against the pillow, crimson. 

"One more thing," Connor says. He comes up to the head of the bed, cups the back of Jack's neck and tilts his face up gently. He's holding a sleep mask, which he shows to Jack and then puts on him. It settles over his eyes and everything goes black. "Okay?"

Jack takes a deep breath, and nods. Connor makes an approving noise, then leans over and kisses Jack, a reward; Jack kisses back, eagerly, until Connor pulls away with one last smooch. 

"Time to get you ready for our guests," Connor says, and Jack shivers. 

There are a few rustling noises; Connor's on the other side of the room, and Jack feels cold. "Can you talk?" he says, tentatively. 

"Are you okay?" Connor sounds concerned. "Do you want—"

"Nah, I'm fine, just—let me know you're still there," Jack says.

"Okay," Connor says. "I'm just getting the stuff. Be right with you." 

Jack feels the bed dip as Connor gets on the bed, and then Connor's touching him again and Jack's sighing with relief. Connor trails a finger down Jack's leg past his knee before leaning in, kissing Jack's thigh and then biting. It's probably going to leave a bruise; Jack relaxes into it, making a small noise when Connor bites down hard and then soothes it with a kiss. 

"Nice," Connor says. "You should see yourself," and then Jack feels the familiar sensation of a slick finger sliding into him. 

Connor fingers him carefully but efficiently, slicking him up but good but not bothering to warm the lube up before he does so. Jack feels his asshole twitching under the cold every time Connor adds more lube. It reminds him of being cold in the car next to Connor; shivering, but like heat's just around the corner, like the sensation of coming in from outside in winter and warming your hands in front of a fire. 

"Hm, that'll probably do," Connor says, and then Jack feels something cool and hard at his entrance. 

"I—what's—"

"Remember those glass plugs we were looking at?" 

Jack swallows. "Uh, yeah," he says. 

"I thought now would be a good time," Connor says, working the plug in. 

Jack bears down until it slips in. "Good call," he says. He can hear himself sounding strangled. The plug is nothing like their usual line in sex toys. It's totally unrelenting; it feels enormous, although judging from the amount of prep Connor gave him he's sure it's not especially large. He squirms a little.

"Oh, that's nice," Connor says. "You should see what you look like." His hand pets Jack, soothingly, at odds with his tone, which is cool and distant. "You can see everything with that plug. Legs spread—"

Jack's gasping now, as Connor goes on in that vein for a while, describing Jack to himself. Jack squeezes his eyes shut behind the mask and imagines himself: spread out on a bed in this anonymous room, trussed up, plugged up, dick hard. 

Connor breaks off when a knock comes at the door, and Jack whines. 

He expects Connor to get off the bed, but instead Connor pauses, and says, "Check in?"

Jack yanks his head off the pillow. He can't glare at Connor but he does his best, and says, flatly, "Dude."

Connor laughs, breathy and turned on. "Okay, okay," he says. "Can't wait, huh?"

The bed moves again as Connor gets off it, and he hears Connor's two steps to the door, and then it opens. 

Jack knows he's visible to the outside. He knows whoever's out there can see him. A breeze comes in the door; it's wide open. He whines. 

"Shit," someone says, and Jack relaxes at Hanny's familiar voice. "Fuck, that's hot."

"Hi, guys," Connor says—Jack tenses a little again; guys?—and Jack hears more footsteps, and then the door finally shuts. 

Someone whistles—not Hanny, who can't whistle for shit—but the other guy doesn't say anything. Jack can't decide if that's awesome or terrible, if he wants to know or if he doesn't. Someone sits down in the armchair. Connor? The other guy? 

Footsteps near the bed, and then Hanny says, "Hi, bud."

Jack turns his face towards the voice. He can feel himself blushing, but he manages to say, "Hi," fairly normally. 

"Doing OK there?"

"Yeah," Jack says, and then fingers are stroking over his face and sliding into his mouth. Jack sucks on them and they slide deeper, fucking his mouth. 

"Man, Davo, you were not kidding," Hanny says. 

"Told you," Connor says. "He wants it."

"That right, Eich?" Hanny's right there, leaning over Jack; Jack can feel his breath on his face. 

"If you can handle it," Jack says around Hanny's fingers, pulling bravado from somewhere, and Hanny laughs. 

He pulls his fingers free of Jack's mouth and wipes them on Jack's cheek, careless. "Oh, I can handle it," he says. "How about you? Can you handle all three of us?"

"Please," Jack says, involuntarily, and all three of them laugh. Someone's cellphone camera clicks; Jack can't tell where it's coming from.

"Eager," Hanny says. 

"I _told_ you," Connor says. 

"Yeah, yeah." Hanny sounds dismissive. Jack hears him circle around the bed, feels him standing between Jack's legs. He taps the plug, then twists it a little, and Jack moans, can't stop himself trying to spread his legs further. "Who's going first?" The camera goes again. 

"Be my guest," Connor says.

"Fuckin' A," Hanny says. He twists the plug again, making Jack squirm, then says, "Ready, bud?"

"Yeah," Jack says. "Stick it in," and he pants as Hanny eases the plug out. He hears a zip being undone and the crinkle of a condom packet, and then feels Hanny's dick pressing up against him. 

Hanny doesn't pause, or give Jack a chance to adjust; he goes for it, sliding right in until Jack can feel Hanny's jeans pressed up against him. The camera goes again and Jack imagines, briefly, what he looks like, spread out naked with Hanny fully clothed above him. Then Hanny starts moving and Jack forgets to think about that, or anything much. 

Hanny's pretty big, which Jack knew but has forcefully brought home to him; it doesn't hurt, but he feels it everywhere, Hanny pounding into him. He gets a rhythm going, a little quick for Jack, brushing against his prostate enough to make Jack squirm and groan but not enough that he has any chance of coming just from this. 

"Want him to come?" Hanny pants after a while.

"If he can," Connor says. "Don't give him a hand. He may as well wait, huh, Jack?" Jack feels Connor's hand in his hair, firm. "Plenty more coming."

Jack groans. "Come on," he says, "Connor, please," aware that he's begging but not enough to stop, but Connor ignores him.

"Cool," Hanny says, and goes back to pounding into Jack; a minute later, Jack guesses, his rhythm stutters. He thrusts a couple more times, hard, and goes still, grunting in a way that would be embarrassing if it didn't turn Jack on. 

Hanny's weight rests on Jack a little as he bends forward, panting. Jack feels sweat or spit fall on his chest as Hanny hisses, "Fuuuuuuck," and then pulls back and out of Jack in one smooth motion. He slaps Jack's ass as he goes. "Thanks, slut," he says. "That took the edge off," and Jack shudders and whines. 

He feels empty, wishes he could have had Hanny come in him. "Come on," he says, "please, someone."

"Be patient," Connor says, reproving. "You're so eager."

"Thought that was the point," Jack says, too far gone not to be demanding, but then someone else's dick is pressing up against him and he sighs, long and low. "Who—" he says.

"Not me," Connor says, voice low. "Not Hanny," and Jack shakes. 

"Who," he says again, pleading, but the guy between his legs says nothing, just gets his hands on Jack's hips and starts thrusting. He moves differently to Hanny, his dick is shaped differently or something—Jack doesn't know what it is, but he's nailing Jack's prostate with just about every thrust, pulling noises out of Jack, and Jack's going to come, he's going to come being fucked by someone and he has no idea who it is. He feels tears well up, and then he feels Connor's hand in his hair and hears Connor's voice in his ear. 

"He's good, huh?" Connor says. "You like this, don't you? It's getting you off, not knowing who he is. You'll fuck anyone, you don't even need to know who—he could be anyone, a stranger, someone I picked off the street. You'll fuck anyone I tell you to—"

Jack sobs, once, and comes all over himself, straining against the ropes. Connor's hand stays in his hair the whole time.

The guy fucks him through it until Jack's whimpering, oversensitive, and then he pulls out. He hears a grunt as the guy fumbles with the condom, and then the slick sound of a hand on someone's dick. When he feels the guy coming all over him he just about whimpers with relief. 

Connor's hand loosens in Jack's hair, and he kisses Jack's cheek. Jack turns his face toward him, blindly seeking, and Connor gives him what he wants: kisses him sweetly despite the drool on Jack's chin, the snot coming out his nose. "One more," he says, and Jack makes some kind of noise.

Then Connor's pulling away from him, keeping one hand on him as he circles round to the foot of the bed again. Connor's dick presses up against him, familiar, the first time today Jack's been fucked without a condom. Connor pauses right there as Jack whimpers, says, "I don't have to."

Jack groans. He wishes he could cover his face. "Please," he says. 

"Please what?" Connor's voice has changed, Jack can hear it, and he knows why. This is why the thing with Connor is so good; he _gets_ Jack, gets what he wants. Connor knows what Jack needs. 

"Please fuck me," Jack says, fast, and then Connor's in him and Jack's yelling. It hurts, he's oversensitive, he's been fucked twice already, but it's so good. His dick is soft and it's not going to get hard, but Jack needs it, and Connor knows it. Connor is telling him all about it, a string of filth about how eager Jack is, how he wants dick all the time, how he wants to be used, how Jack is there for Connor to use, and Jack is whimpering and twisting into it and so aware of Hanny on the other side of the room, Hanny and someone else, watching him like this, watching Connor take him apart. 

Connor comes at some point; Jack's not even sure when, he just gradually becomes aware that Connor's not in him anymore, and then he feels hands at his legs and wrists, untying him, bringing his legs down. He groans; his back is sore, and he turns blindly until he feels Connor snug against him, running his hands down Jack's back, rubbing at him. Connor goes for the blindfold, but Jack shakes his head fast. 

"Sure?" Connor says, and Jack nods, so Connor takes his hands away, just eases Jack down on the bed and climbs up behind him. 

"Come on," Connor says, and Jack doesn't know who he's talking to until the bedspread eases down over both of them, and then someone else is climbing on the bed—two someones, tucking themselves up against Jack. Jack sighs in relief, spreads out into them. He's not a cuddler, not really, but right now he's not sure what he'd do if he didn't feel them there. 

"Hey," Connor says after a while. "I'm going to get some food, OK?"

"Sure," Jack says, sleepy, and rolls further into the other bodies. 

"You really are clingy like this," Hanny says. Jack can hear his voice rumbling in his chest beneath his ear, so he guesses that's who's closest.

"Mm," Jack says. 

"Connor said you'd be like this, but I didn't believe him." 

That's not Hanny, but Jack knows the voice; he frowns beneath the mask, then reaches a hand out until he can pat the other face vaguely. "Stromer," he says, confidently. 

"Wow, he really didn't tell you? I kind of assumed it was, you know—pretend," Stromer says. 

"I mean, I knew he didn't get a stranger off the street," Jack says. "I'm not an idiot. I just trust Connor."

Hanny and Stromer both make cooing noises. Jack smacks at them idly, and then Connor's back, climbing into bed. "Sandwiches," he says. 

Jack groans and disentangles himself, sitting up. "Water?" 

Connor wraps his hand around a bottle and Jack drains half of it, letting some of it run over his face. Connor makes a disgruntled noise, and wipes Jack's face with what Jack's pretty sure is Jack's own shirt. 

"Hey," he says.

"I brought you a spare," Connor says, and hands him a sandwich. They eat in quiet; Jack puts away three sandwiches before he subsides against Connor again. 

When they're done eating, the silence stretches out. After a while, Jack goes for the blindfold, but Connor catches his wrist and says, "Actually …"

Jack turns his face towards him, and Connor coughs. "You know, Noah and Dylan came a long way to fix this up for you. I think you should probably thank them."

Jack shivers. "Yeah?" he says. 

"Yeah," says Connor, tone getting dark again, and Jack bites his lip. 

Jack ends up on his knees on a towel in the middle of the room, hands cuffed behind him. The three of them standing around him, fisting their dicks. 

Someone presses their dick up against Jack's mouth and he drools around it, sucks on it, until they pull away. "Hey." It's Hanny's voice. "Guess who?"

"Hanny," Jack says. 

"Wrong," he says, and then another dick's there, filling his mouth up. 

"Connor," Jack's pretty sure this time, and someone pats his head. 

"Good job."

They play with him like that for a while, thrusting until he chokes or giving him a few seconds, just a taste, making him stick his tongue out and guess from the swipe of a leaking head over his tongue. He's getting pretty good at it by the time they come, Connor down his throat, Hanny in his mouth, and Stromer, apparently with a bit of a thing for it, coming all over his face and then taking a couple of pictures. 

"Those better be fucking secure," Jack says.

Connor says, "It's my old phone. No wifi and I took the chip out.", and then he gets behind Jack and jerks him off, unrelenting, until Jack comes all over the towel he's kneeling on, hearing Stromer take pictures of him, of them, the entire time. 

Connor showers with Jack afterwards, easing the blindfold off, and when they come out Jack's impressed; Stromer and Hanny have pretty much set the room to rights, enough that Jack's not going to be too embarrassed for whoever has to clean it, although not enough that they're not going to be leaving a giant tip. 

It's a little awkward for a moment, Jack meeting Stromer and Hanny's eyes for the first time today; then Stromer sticks out his hand for a fistbump, and Jack laughs, pounding his fist. "This was fun," he says. 

"Fuck yeah," says Hanny, heartfelt. "Call me any time." He holds out his arms, and Jack hugs him, relieved. 

"Same," says Stromer. He gives Connor a bro hug, then Hanny punches Connor in the shoulder. 

"Maybe," Connor says, and they both head out, leaving Connor and Jack alone. 

Jack strips the bed and leaves a tip while Connor collects the last of the stuff. They both do a final check of the room for anything incriminating, and then they get back in the car, heading back to the nicer hotel room they'll spend the night in before their flight out tomorrow. 

They're quiet in the car, but Jack grabs Connor's hand. Connor glances at him, but just squeezes Jack's hand and lets him hold on the whole way back to the hotel. 

"Hey. That was awesome," Jack says, sleepily, as they climb into bed. He spoons up behind Connor, wraps one arm over him. 

Connor laces his fingers into Jack's and settles back against him with a sigh. "Yeah," he says, breaking off to yawn. "Sorry it was so late."

"I don't mind getting all my Christmas presents in summer if they're that great," Jack says. He buries his face in Connor's neck and falls asleep.


End file.
